Sporting connections from across the pond
The events of this weekend reminded me again how strong the ties of competitive sports can be. They connect us to family and friends in ways that surprise and sometimes mystify.
For sheer drama, it would be hard to beat the epic tennis match at Wimbledon between Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer that held fans in thrall for nearly five hours through rain delays and tiebreakers. The stats beloved by sports commentators always add interest, but they pale against the intensity of the players, battling fatigue and pent-up emotion, with night falling on the final game of the fifth set.
All of my relatives who share a love for the game were pulling for Federer. But it was thrilling to watch the youthful exuberance, the power and agility of the young Spaniard.
Only once or twice, one could see a slight flash of Latin temper at a missed point, not really enough to break his concentration.
Federer, as always, stayed focused, quiet, showing little reaction to the intensity of the play. A pleasure to watch.
There have been a few very good recreational tennis players in our family. I was not among them, having abysmal eye-hand coordination and the weakest ankles on the planet. But I’ve always been a fan.
My father played a good game and encouraged me to try, but gave up when the local tennis pro gently told him I should find another sport. My younger sister played well until complications from a teen-age riding accident put the brakes on her athletic pursuits. Her son, however, and his father were excellent players.
Even in the last year of his life, my father never missed a major tennis match on TV. He had taken me to see my first match between reigning champions Poncho Gonzales and Poncho Seguro. I was hooked.
Through the years, we all connected by phone to rehash the major games. We cheered Bjorn Borg, my nephew’s hero, winning 41 straight Wimbledon matches leading up to his 1980 final, beating John McEnroe in the fifth set after losing an 18-16 tiebreaker. The silver-haired Swede watched Sunday from the front row of the Royal Box. McEnroe, a TV commentator at the event, said it was “the greatest match I’ve ever seen.”
I had tuned in late and missed the first two sets where Nadal dominated Federer with his topspin forehand, picking up the action as Federer fought back to win the third set. From that point on, I was riveted to the screen. Even during a rain delay when NBC reran parts of the doubles match with Venus and Serena Williams, I couldn’t leave.
The tension was never broken until the last point when Federer slapped a return shot into the net on Nadal’s fourth match point.
At that, Nadal collapsed on his back with relief then jumped up to shake Federer’s hand. Then he climbed up into the players’ box to hug his family and friends, draped a Spanish flag over his shoulders, strode across to the edge of the Royal Box and shook hands with Spain’s Prince Felipe and Princess Letizia. Only then, in the close-up of the TV camera, did we see tears in his eyes.
After the presentation, still clutching the gold trophy, he said, “It’s impossible to explain what I felt in that moment. I’m just very, very happy to win this title.” He added, “He’s still No. 1. He’s still the best. He’s still five-time champion here and I only have one, so for me it is very, very important.”
With his usual grace, Federer said, “I tried everything. Rafa is a deserving champion. He just played fantastic. It was the worst opponent on the best court.” He referred to Nadal’s four consecutive championships on the clay court at the French Open and his own domination of Wimbledon’s grass center court.
When it was over, I called my sister in Malibu. She said she had been taping the match to watch later. “Don’t tell me who won,” she cried. When I told her how long it lasted she gasped, fearing the tape had run out before the end. It had. Her son has TiVo, she said, so maybe he got the whole thing. Then she said it didn’t matter and I should tell her what happened. I did. She was sad for Federer, and sad that she didn’t have the whole thing on tape when she learned what a fabulous game it was.
In the way that only the traditional athletic contests stay with us for years, we relish the opportunity to be in on a moment in history. Sunday at Wimbledon was such a moment. And for those of us who share this passion, once again we make a connection, over a thousand miles, over a lifetime. Thanks Rafa and Roger for an incredible match.
And thanks, Dad, for sharing your love of the sport I could never play. It connects us all.